


You Died...Loved

by uwusunflower



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Character Death, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Abortion, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Inspired By American Horror Story, Murder-Suicide, Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:34:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26829691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uwusunflower/pseuds/uwusunflower
Summary: “You’re a ghost, pretty girl,” the other woman spoke bluntly, more focused on staring after the state of her pristinely polished nails than anything going on with the crying girl. “Which means you're dead.”
Relationships: Jackie Cox/Jan Sport, Jaida Essence Hall/Jan Sport, Nicky Doll/Jaida Essence Hall, Nicky Doll/Jan Sport
Comments: 15
Kudos: 28





	You Died...Loved

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING for the following topics; Several potentially triggering or upsetting topics are explored in this story including; mentions or depictions of s*lf h*rm, s*icide, death, blood, grief, abortions, and extreme upset/panic/anxiety !! If these are things that may trigger or harm you through reading please feel free to skip out on this oneshot!! Your mental wellness is not worth ruining by reading a piece of Fanfiction!! 
> 
> That being said, if you choose to read, I hope you enjoy!! This is inspired by the basis of American Horror Story: Murder House!! :)

“Jackie, please, i-i don’t know what I did wrong,” Jan whimpered, heart only continuing to shatter inside her chest. 

The Persian woman persisted, sniffling as she lifted the coffee pot to fill her mug once more. The black liquid casted a strong aroma throughout the kitchen, where Jan stood, watching from the doorway in agony. Her girlfriend's delicate hands trembled as she lifted the mug to her lips, the blue ceramic Star Trek mug that Jan had gifted her a long while back as a Christmas present. 

“What did I do to make you upset with me? W-what did I do Jacks?” she begged, coming closer and standing to face her girlfriend. Her brown eyes were dull, and blazed with unshed tears, nonetheless she shuffled around Jan to grab a slice of toast from their little breadbox. Jan had painted that breadbox only weeks ago with little purple flowers on the front, the acrylic paint now chipping as she had forgotten to seal it. She cradled Jackie’s face in her hands, her skin not feeling as soft to her fingertips anymore, tanned flesh cold. 

“Jackie...please…” she whispered, voice breaking beneath her words. The brunette didn’t take notice, merely shuddering, as if a draft or chill had traveled down her spine, and continued to search for peanut butter in the upper cabinets. 

“Why can’t you hear me!” The blonde sobbed, falling to her knees in upset. Deep cries wracked her entire body, shaking as she continued to watch her partner shift throughout the kitchen in her normal morning routine, as though Jan wasn’t sprawled across the tiled floor in despair. It was like a bad nightmare, Jan had woken every day this week to Jacqueline ignoring her quite cruelly. She felt trapped in some variety of a horror story, her lover deaf to her cries, as were her neighbors, the gardener, anyone around who could have possibly heard her heart wrenching screeching. 

Jackie was living everyday like Jan no longer existed, as if she never did to begin with. She woke up, kicked around her socks, never being one to prioritize putting them in with the dirty laundry. Jan always did the laundry, it only seemed like a fair exchange since Jackie did all the cooking for the couple. The Persian woman had clearly not attempted any of it herself, a larger pile of miscellaneous bras and t-shirts forming outside the laundry room door. 

She hadn’t left the house all week, Jacqueline. Sluggish behavior overtook her, making hushed phone calls behind locked doors, barely containing the energy inside her to feed the dog Jan had convinced them to adopt, Rosie. 

Oh, Rosie.

The poor puppy stood at Jan’s feet, her cries only growing louder when she tried to pet her, always wincing away from her attempts to touch. The curly haired pup travelled in repetitive circles, sadly slumping into Jan’s spot on the sofa, constantly whining. Jan remembered being so excited that first night she brought Rosie home, weeks of convincing Jackie that she’d be a perfect addition to their little family finally paying off. 

“They can’t hear you, chérie.”

Jan jumped at the presence of a sultry voice from behind. “Wh-who the hell are you? How did you get in here?” She stumbled, breathing heavy as she glanced at the strangers behind her. 

A slender, silver-blonde haired woman wore a sympathetic expression on her face. A white collar laid pristinely against the matte black fabric of her dress, shaping every sharp edge and gentle curve of her frame.

Standing behind her, an lengthy arm wrapped lazily around the blonde’s tiny waist, was a woman with glowing cocoa-colored skin, straight, dark hair travelling down to her waist. Her outfit was effortless, draped in an open-buttoned dress shirt partially tucked into flared pants, a delicate lace bralette peeking through. “She can’t see you, or hear you, unless you summon yourself to be seen or heard. The dog can feel your presence, she just can’t see you.”

“Mon coeur,” the blonde simpered, taking notice of the tears still sliding down Jan’s face. “You poor angel.” Taking a step away from the embrace of the dark-haired woman, the mysterious stranger gently wiped away the crying girl’s tears with the pad of her thumb. Jan felt strangely comforted by the touch of this complete stranger, missing being able to touch her Jackie like normal. Part of her stomach twisted, feeling guilty for being so quick to accept comfort from some random woman, she pulled away from the gentle touch. 

“W-what’s going on,” Jan panicked, glancing into the next room to see Jacqueline as statuesque as ever, staring blankly into the television screen, even as it wasn’t on. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

“You’re a ghost, pretty girl,” the other woman spoke bluntly, more focused on staring after the state of her pristinely polished nails than anything going on with the crying girl. “Which means you're dead.”

Glaring after the nonchalant woman, the blonde introduced herself in a more kindly manner. “Excuse Jaida, being deceased has made her une salope. je m'appelle nicolette, but you can call me Nicky,” she offered, taking a seat at the kitchen table, gently pulling Jan alongside her. . 

Jan’s heart plummeted to the pit of her stomach. “I-I’m what?”

“Dead,” Jaida spat, leaning over the kitchen counter. “D to the E to the A D, deceased, more gone than JFK’s sex life after he paid to off Marilyn Monro-“

Jan shook her head, slumping into a cushioned seat at the table, head too busy buzzing with questions to feel Nicolette rubbing soothing circles into the flesh of her arm. “H-how is that possible? I-I’m not supposed to die, we were gonna get married, a-and start a family,” she whispered, feeling her eyes well up with tears once more. “This isn’t happening to me,” she denied, eyes blurring with hot tears, stinging with leftover mascara. “N-no, I’m-I’m high or something. This isn’t real,” she sputtered in a frantic state. 

She felt as though the world beneath her feet was crumbling, and like it was swallowing her whole. She was dead, she’d never press her lips against Jacqueline’s again, 

“Girl, please take a breath,” Jaida pleaded, having abandoned her previous spiteful attitude.she knew how the young girl must have been feeling, as she had been there only a matter of decades ago. 

The other modelesque woman nodded alongside her. “You’re not alone, sweetheart. This house...has a dark past.”

Eyes widening, Jan came to a late realization. “W-Wait, does that mean you’re-“

Nicolette nodded, looking downward as Jaida’s hand found its way onto her thigh. “En effet, we died many moons ago,” she spoke softly, seeming as if saying it aloud was only twisting the knife further. 

Jaida visibly swallowed, the pain in the Parisian woman’s eyes making her heart ache. “Nicky’s family moved from France in the summer of ‘22, settled down here…”

Shaking her head, Nicky held her head up with her balled up fist. “My father was a counterfeit female surgeon, higher demand in America, washed up celebrities who didn’t want babies,” she grumbled, mind clearly taking her back. Jaida leaned into her, pressing a chaste kiss into her temple. 

“My mom worked in the kitchens, Nicky’s parents threw a lot of dinner parties to spread the word about her dad’s…..services,” she paused, Jan watching as the gears in her brain turned. “Found this one in the kitchens one night, doing a miserable job of making some cookies,” she snickered, nudging the silvery haired girl playfully. 

Nicky’s demeanor softened a bit, seemingly comforted by Jaida’s way of reciting the story of their lives. “Once she realized I was not American, Jaida started helping me with my English, at night when my parents were alseep. We fell in love, heures supplémentaires. We would sneak away from the house, to be with each other…” she faltered, gritting her teeth a bit. “Mes parents, they were waiting for me when I got home that night…they found out about the two of us, they were going to send me away,,” she mumbled. Jan had only just noticed how white her clenched knuckles had become. “They courted me to a much older man they had known, since his daughter was worked on by my father at one point. Said he would be able to provide for me, take care of me.”

Jaida’s face fell, reliving the images inside her head, and she placed her hand overtop of Nicky’s. “We were going to run away together, the night before they planned to send her away,” she looked downward, unable to meet her partner’s teary gaze. “Her dad was waiting outside...with a gun.”

Tears made their way down Jan’s eyes once more, realizing how the world had forced Jaida and Nicolette to hide their love, and ruined their lives. 

Nicky looked upwards, wiping at her eyes. “By the time I heard the gunshot it was too late,” she spoke somberly. “I ran outside and all I saw was all of the blood...and I lost it.” She rolled up the long black sleeves of her dress, revealing long, deep scars that travelled down the length of the inside of her forearms. “I… I bled out in the bathtub that night. I knew that I…” she shook her head, rephrasing. “Life wasn’t worth living, without her in it.”

Jan swallowed, feeling startled at the story’s violent ending. “How did...how did you know that you died? If I’m...really dead, why don’t I remember dying?”

“It takes a bit for the memories to come back,” Jaida spoke earnestly, shrugging off the sleeve of her dress shirt down to reveal a tormented patch of skin, a long since healed bullet wound. Jan winced at the sight, shrugging back into her chair. “I didn’t notice it until after...and I was terrified, and confused...but then the memories from that night came back… and I looked everywhere for Nicky.” She admitted, voice hollow. “I found her upstairs...and it was too late to save her,” she croaked, “There was no hope for us in the mortal world, two girls who were in love with each other, we had everything stacked against us. She came back as a spirit, a day or two later, and at least now we get to be together...”

Nicky lay her head into the crook of Jaida’s neck, allowing herself to let out a sigh at the comforting contact. “There are other spirits here, not just us. And now you’re one of them, too, Chérie.”

Jan curled into herself, shamefully asking what she was now most fearful to find out. “H-How did I die? D-did Jackie...did she see it? Does she know?”

Jaida and Nicolette shared a look, glancing down at the thick newspaper sitting atop the table they were sitting at. “It’s… pretty graphic, hon,” Jaida warned, sliding the paper across the tabletop. “Just, brace yourself, okay?”

Unfolding the paper between her shaking hands, Jan’s heart stopped, seeing herself, her dead body, in a mangled state. Her entire body had been contorted in an uncomfortable position, seemingly thrown into some kind of makeshift hole or grave, her blonde locks tinted brown with fresh earth. Blood seeped from the crown of her head, having dripped downward to paint her face entirely in coppery red. Tears welled in her eyes, seeing her promise ring covered in sticky red liquid, her eyes rolled back and devoid of life. She remembered Jackie pulling that delicate little ring out from her pocket back from what felt like yesterday, the ring that was on Jan’s finger now. “Oh my god,” she breathed in disbelief, trembling. “I-I got murdered?” She squeaked, fresh tears falling down her face. 

Jaida nodded, understanding her upset. “It’s been on the news nonstop this week. Your...your girlfriend came home and you were missing, she filed a police report, put up posters, all that jazz. It took them like four days to find you, a police dog ended up sniffing you out in the backyard...and they found your body,” she spoke softly. 

Jan stood up from the table, approaching the window and feeling stricken with a wave of nausea at the sight. 

“The investigation is still open,” Nicky offered. “I don’t believe your lady has the heart to leave, knowing that you… this is the last place you were, with her.”

Caution tape was strewn all across the greenery of the back yard, taking away from the nice little atmosphere Jan and Jackie had built for themselves, for Rosie, for the children they wanted to have together. There were little paper flags tracing certain darkened, lingering patches of blood-stained grass. When her eyes travelled, she saw a large black tarp over a deep hole in the earth, big enough for a body, for her body-

Jan lost it. 

She would never cuddle on the couch with her Jackie again, pretending to be annoyed at her girlfriend’s insistence on watching Star Trek reruns once again. She would never fall asleep on Jackie’s chest, with the latter running fingers soothingly through her blonde locks as she slumbered. She would never fall into the cherry-chapstick sweetness of Jackie’s lips. They would never wakeup beside one another, slow dance to the squeaking of one of Jan’s old Broadway records, or get a little too drunk and act a lot too mischievous in the backseat of a cab again. 

Jan would never get another I love you.

“We-we were gonna get married,” she sobbed, falling to the floor in her own puddle of grief. “W-we were supposed to be together forever, h-h-have a baby together. W-wh-what am I gonna do,” she weeped, a pair of slim arms wrapping around her from behind. “I-I-I’m dead, I’m actually dead,” she shook her head, feeling as a soft kiss was laid onto her forehead. “I’m dead.”


End file.
